


Near Miss

by TheMockingCrows



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Clubbing, Drunk Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 07:30:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMockingCrows/pseuds/TheMockingCrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After meeting by chance in a club one night, John and Dave wind up in a cheap motel for what was supposed to be a one night stand, but what wound up being so much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Near Miss

He was gorgeous. Tan skin and broad shoulders, long legs and fingers, gangly enough you could count his ribs if his shirt rode up when his arms swayed up to the beat that was hammering itself into the very DNA of everyone in the club. In some light he looked like a poser who fell out of Hot Topic and into the freebie box at the local thrift store to look different. Hipster meets bargain bin trying to be original from a DIY instruction book. In other light he looked like an angel with the strobe lighting up the wetness on his forehead and in his hair. Dave wanted to lick his Adam’s apple, run his fingers over every dip of flesh from his barely-there hips to his wildly messy dark cowlicks.

Even from where he stood with his drink, he knew what this man would feel like, smell like, taste like, and he wanted to know for sure. Two shots later to bolster his courage and he was off, shimmying into the crowd where it would allow him to go, edging closer all the while until he was directly beside him.

John.

The brunette said his name was John, shouting it above the speakers before the bass dropped even lower and Dave swore his heart stopped cold. Surely he wasn’t alive. Nobody alive would be this lucky so fast, lost in the music with a gorgeous boy who grabbed his hands like they’d known each other for years despite this being the first time Dave had ever set foot here.

Within two songs, they were grinding up against each other in a feral display, and nobody else came close, tried to cut in or make it a group thing. In a sea of chaos, they were an island. Dave finds out John’s exactly what he’d thought from the bar, and so much more. He smells like sweat and cologne, some kind of shampoo he can’t quite place, a barely there scent that stamps him out as himself.

John offers to buy the drinks, and steadily leads Dave off the floor to the bar by the hand as if he were a child. He’s only two inches shorter, ten shades of pale aside from the ruddy flush to the cheeks. Maybe it’s the aviators, dark and final as a closed door that gives the appearance he might be a newbie of some kind. After all, who wears shades to a club?

Someone who gets annoyed by strobe lights or bright points of any kind, but that’s too personal. Too much to give away when the most they knew about each other was hands and hard music, the outline of erections through jeans as they danced against each other. Dave isn’t looking to write his memoirs, he’s standing and tipping back another hard shot without even asking what it is, trying to use it to detect just what John had to offer. After all, he only knew what this man smelled like, how he felt to grind on when the beat grew crazed. There were other senses he wanted to explore, and some to repeat with the absence of clothes.

Dave wondered who lived closer, because they sure as fuck weren’t driving anywhere after this.

By three a.m., more than a little drunk on mixed shooters, music and each-other’s touch, it turned out that neither of them lived all that close. Supposedly. Maybe it was because it was a one night stand that neither of them wanted to go to their own home, wanted to avoid awkward questions if it didn’t turn out good. Wanted to be able to enjoy it longer if it was great.

It was better than great.

They made quite a pair as they staggered into the nearest motel arm in arm, Dave shouldering the bill and asking for a key as he slid his debit card across the countertop and tried to scrawl his name. Being drunk was one thing. Being drunk while you were practically having clothed sex in the lobby was another thing entirely, but he couldn’t care enough about his penmanship to make John stop digging at his belt buckle to reach his broad hand down the front of his pants. He wished he could just sign with an X and ask the man to turn around so they could finish right there.

Key and card in hand, he was free to turn and climb up into welcoming arms as they teetered and tottered towards the elevator, thankfully not far down the hallway lest they become distracted again on their way to the top floor.

Safely inside, it’s a short stumble to the bed, barely remembering to shut the door let alone lock it. Shoes were toed out of, pants undone and tugged down, damp shirts lifted over heads until thankfully they were finally naked and pressed flush against one another.  Flush as they could be when they were still teetering and tottering, trying to figure out what to do first while being unwilling to pull away from each other.

“Finally got to see what’s been pokin’ me all fuckin’ night,” Dave murmured when they came to an agreement on who would go where once he wrestled John onto the edge of the bed and slid down his torso with his mouth and hands. It was thrilling to see the lean body squirm as he toyed with his nipples, as he licked a stripe down his chest and stomach. His guesses had been right. Between his mouth and his body, John tasted like sweat and cologne, the bitter shades of alcohol they’d been slamming down, and that indescribable musk that only got better as he went lower.

John’s face twisted and he bit at his lips as he reached down to take off Dave’s shades and toss them free to the side of the bed. They could find them later in one piece instead of rolling them to death that way. His toes curled tightly as he got to see in explicit detail the pale lips of a man he barely knew teasing at the head of his dick, a pink tongue reaching out and tracing the frenulum like it was an exquisite piece of candy.

Between alcohol and unbridled arousal, Dave’s face was blissful as he pulled back enough to give a toothy grin. “Y’gotta pretty dick. Didja know that?” John wondered what he sounded like when he didn’t slur drunkenly, if he kept that soft twang and purr or if it was an act. He wondered how he handled himself when he wasn’t caught up in the tempo of a song he didn’t know the name of, a remix designed solely to make pants drop.

With some finagling, not wanting to pull him off and not wanting to leave him unattended, John lured him up properly onto the bed and had him switch around so the pale thighs he’d been admiring were squarely over his head.

“Not so bad yourself,” John muttered before he let actions speak louder than his words, lifting his chin to catch the tip of the erection bobbing over his face. He wasn’t as long as himself, this Dave, but he was a good deal thicker from base to tip. Much more open with himself as well, as he groaned and shuddered, arching and bowing his back to work his hips forward and back how he wanted. After a few minutes of work, he was trying to work down into John’s throat in a shaky rhythm even as his legs were spreading wider.

It was another fumble to pull away from each other before coming, trying to sort out what happened next. They laughed breathlessly when they realized they both carried condoms in their wallets, having been prepared for something exactly like this to happen. They even carried the same brand.

It was stupid, these little coincidences, not worth mentioning except in hindsight as the point that made them begin to laugh. Not just snickers, but loud belly laughs while they kissed and ran their empty hand over each-other’s torsos, trying to stay upright.

John said he didn’t mind bottoming, wanting something more than blowjobs and rolling around after all the teasing in the club. He needed heat and pulse and throbbing, the feeling of being stretched out, taking as much as he was able to. Dave put up an excellent counter argument by crawling saucily onto the bedspread and looking over his shoulder before wetting his fingers and lowering them towards his own ass. He promised it wouldn’t be the only round that night. John relented and rolled on the condom before crawling over to him, molding to his back to stroke at his stomach and bite his neck, asking how he wanted it.

Dave wanted it hard.

“If I wanted gentle sex, I wouldn’t be goin’ to clubs like that on a Saturday and findin’ the most gorgeous guy there, or goin’ to seedy motels,” he sassed.

Hard, by John’s standards, didn’t involve the bed at all. He asked how Dave felt about risks, and was rewarded with an admittance of enjoying exhibitionism. Hand at the back of his neck, John led Dave to the large window and pulled back the curtains, pressing him against it with his left hand as his right grasped his own dick. He needed to aim and guide in carefully, needed to pause and swat Dave soundly on the ass for squirming too much, dancing eagerly in place.

He wished the window could be opened properly, or there was a balcony that he could take them out onto once Dave began to moan and cry out. The antsy dancing continued despite his best efforts to stop it, part drunken attempts to stay upright and part cock slut as he realized Dave was pushing back against him harder than he was pushing in.

Apparently, hard meant actually hard.

Once more, John obliged him by rocking his hips sharply forwards, seating himself deeply before drawing out and slowly building a rhythm he could keep up. They had to keep pausing to adjust for their heights, the length of their legs. Dave rose up onto the balls of his feet and John bent his knees, gripped at his freckled hip to stabilize him once they got going, gripped at his cock as it started to bob sharply in time.

The sound of flesh slapping together began to fall in time to the tempo of the music they’d danced to all evening, what would become the overlying rhythm of their entire evening. From dancing to the timing of their shots, and finally to the movement of their bodies it was all the music. Going to that club was proving to be the best decision John ever made.

After a time of roughly fucking Dave into the glass, rubbing and grasping at his dripping dick as he pleased, John had him turn and lift his leg for him, changing the angle and depth. It didn’t last, both of them too drunk to not topple to the floor. Dave compromised by lifting his legs up and resting his heels on John’s shoulders, more than happy to get rug burn on the small of his back as he came hard enough to see stars. John decided to stay buried deep when he finally finished, slowly rocking his hips to ride out his orgasm before wilting across Dave’s back.

He needed to kiss this amazing man, and he wasn’t sure when he’d be willing to stop. Every touch was perfect, familiar, as if they’d known each other forever. Lovers for years instead of minutes, knowing everything instead of only knowing their first names. If even that.

After time to recover, John got his wish of a rough time as well, Dave shoving his head down against the sheets as he propped his ass up and got settled after a bit of preparation. He moved quicker than John had, and with the extra girth it was quite purposefully. John would moan, Dave would reward him with a harsh buck of his hips and breathless mutters and mumbles.

He was hot, he was amazing, he felt fantastic. Come on, baby, arch your hips for me. Tell me what you want. Tell me how to make you scream.

Dave rode John as his legs gave out and his hips gradually sank flush atop the bed, changing the curve of his body to a more upward angle after each stroke, reaching to clasp his fingers tightly around the dark neck to tip his head back. When he managed to rub against his prostate, John writhed and whined for him to do it again, trying to repeat the conditions so he could even just glance it. His reward was electricity up his spine and white behind his eyes, a mind numbing rush over the edge that he’d needed so badly, spending himself against the sheets as Dave pulled out and removed his condom. John felt heat spurt between his shoulder blades and down his spine, heard Dave working his hand over his dick even as it began to finally go flaccid.

Sticky, soaked in sweat, they sought each other out breathlessly to kiss and cling tight. Needing to come down somewhere safe. They passed out for a time, about an hour judging from the dull red glow from the clock. After nudging Dave, John proposed the idea of a shower and was met with approval.

The cleaning turned to a spontaneous round of shower sex, Dave’s legs wrapped firmly around his waist as John balanced him against the wall and bounced him on his dick. John repayed him, once they actually did manage to get clean, with a towel clad blowjob on the mattress they’d stripped of the soiled sheets.

Once more, exhausted and on the slow beginnings of a hangover, they passed out together.

\----

John hadn’t left his number afterwards, and he was still not certain how he felt about that. Dave had still been sleeping as he got up and dressed in the same soiled clothes from the night before, rubbing his aching head, but had woken up when he began to wash his face and brush his teeth with his finger.

Awkward glances had been shared, tip toeing around the topic until Dave had broken the ice.

“I’ve got two things to ask. One, is your name really John. Two, do you have any aspirin, because I think I might need to hijack a damn truck of it to get rid of this headache.”

He still had the soft twang to his words without the slur, and John found himself fighting down a grin as he said he didn’t have any and the blonde head flopped back onto the bed in defeat. They talked slowly then, and tried to sort things out, see if maybe it could work. After all, that had been some mind numbingly good sex, and neither of them would be walking straight for a good day or two. It was hard to find something like that, even if it was just for the sex.

Dave worked in a cubicle half the week to make ends meet, data entry and other mind numbing things that paid out the ass to get done. The other half of the week he used the same skills to help his brother run some kind of illicit website and edit other peoples work and websites for a set fee. By night he drew his own comics and was trying to prep them for publishing with the plan to expand them out and hit other media platforms along the way.

John was new to the area, going to school for film and music on his father’s dime, working in retail to take care of rent and food as per the agreement they’d apparently made. Dave was shocked to hear him go on and on about old movies as though they were the greatest thing ever, while John was left stunned wondering what kind of illicit Dave had meant.

There was no way this could work, no way they’d mesh together properly. It was just meant to be a passing thing and then they’d both go on their ways. That had been the plan as they both finished getting dressed and went their separate ways, John wandering back to his car, Dave checking out at the front desk and walking to the train station.

No numbers, no promises, no questions.

\---

One week later, John was surprised to see the familiar frame near the bar, and went to go buy himself a drink. He was thirsty, was all. He didn’t need an excuse to go talk to Dave, they’d ended the adventure on a good note. There were no strings attached.

John bought Dave a drink and was delighted when he accepted it and the second one that followed. He was able to sneak his hand around the narrow hip he’d bitten only a week ago and draw him closer to his side, swaying to the music.

They were on the dance floor grinding close within ten minutes.

They were having sex on most of the surfaces of a nearby motel room by the end of the night, Dave moaning and crying his name out while he was splayed out over a countertop, John seeing stars as he crawled onto his lap later and rode the night away.

Again, no numbers were exchanged. No questions. No strings attached. Though this time, Dave left with the name Egbert in mind and John thought nothing but Strider all week.

Their pattern was the same for months, with growing intensity. Each week would pass by in a drone of sameness and gray flat panels, and each weekend would pass in a haze of amazing music at the club and fantastic sex in a cheap motel.

They didn’t go on dates, as they weren’t dating by their definition. They were hooking up each weekend on a schedule. Dave wondered if John had a girlfriend or a boyfriend somewhere, and if this was just a stress relief for him. John wondered if Dave would ever get along with him outside of the club scene. If they had more in common.

Each week was a trade off on who would buy the motel room. Each week they began to drink less, spotting one another right away and starting to dance. The kisses began to trail from the motels back to the club, until finally their hello was a deep kiss and a long thankful hold, glad to see each other.

Dave was beginning to realize he could probably find music and booze like this at some of the clubs even closer to his apartment, but never went to investigate that theory. None of them would have John in them, after all. This was the only club he went to that he was aware of.

John only came here to see Dave, and was fairly worried that he was falling in love.

\-----

Six months in, Dave showed up to the club early and waited, swaying off to the side like usual. Men and women shot him looks, tried to shimmy closer to him, but he wasn’t playing ball. He was waiting for something far better than any of they could offer him. When John hadn’t showing up at his usual time, Dave bought a drink and walked around the edges of the writhing crowd to get a closer look at the equipment, at the light stands. He got a double shot when half the night had gone by without John showing up, lurking by the DJ, watching her work the boards like nobody’s business. By three A.M, he left the club alone for the first time and took a nearly empty train home.

\-----

John had gotten hit with the flu bad enough that he’d missed work and school most of the week, and was still recovering the night that he’d missed Dave. He hoped that his absence hadn’t messed anything up, left without a way to contact him and let him know he wouldn’t be arriving. It dawned on him that if he’d had a number, he’d have taken him home by now, let him spend the night. Asked to stay the night at his place.

They’d be going on dates during the week, meeting up for breakfast or lunch. Going to movies.

He knew Dave was a cuddler, though he denied it, knew precisely where he was ticklish. John knew his favorite color was red, that he couldn’t go a day without his music, that he hated touching wool because it made his fingers twitch. He knew his favorite foods despite never having seen him eat, his clothing sizes by comparison with his own when they sorted out who owned what item when they got dressed in the morning.

He knew the model of phone he used, the password to unlock it, the background he’d customized by blending his own art stealthily into until it was a Where’s Waldo of pixelated proportions.  John knew all of this, but didn’t know his number and had never typed his own in. He’d gone as far as to put his name, but never hit enter to set the number permanently.

They’d never agreed. They weren’t dating. It could never work between them. Realistically, they had quite a good deal in common, and it could possibly work..

Okay, it could work. It would work.

It was going to work.

John didn’t wear club clothes that next weekend, deciding to dress up rather than down. He had a plan to take the blonde out instead of staying to dance, crossing over the border of This Can’t Work to I Can’t Stand Not Being With You. After telling his Dad, albeit leaving out the circumstances leading up to it, he’d been talked into getting a promise ring as well, because he’d apparently never been this starry eyed over someone before and his father hoped to meet the young man who was stealing his son properly someday.

\-----

Dave never showed up.

For three months of weekends, Dave never showed up at the club. John appeared early every Saturday night and parked himself with a drink where he could see people come and go, eyes skipping to the dance floor in case he’d missed him. In case he needed to march over and interrupt a too close dance while asking to talk.

Three months of waiting, and hoping, and praying with a ring in his pocket waiting for a gorgeous blonde who just wasn’t turning up.

John was stubborn, however, and wasn’t going to give in so easily.

\-----

It took Dave four months to turn up after that missed night at the club, avoiding it stubbornly and throwing himself into work and projects instead. He didn’t want to think about John’s face, John’s smile, John’s sweet voice any more. Surely after so long had passed he’d be able to turn up and find someone else to drink and dance with, maybe sleep with if it felt right.

He hadn’t been with anyone else since John. There was no way he could, in his mind. He’d just wind up comparing anyone new with him, and it wasn’t fair to anyone involved for him to do that. Wouldn’t have felt right. So, in loose black jeans held up with suspenders over a top with torn sleeves, Dave decided to give it his best and relax.

If nothing else, he could enjoy the music and some damn fine shots to pass the time till he went home.

As if on cue, however, there was the exact man he was hoping to get over waiting for him at the bar. Grinning the lopsided grin that made Dave’s heart melt to remember as he made a beeline over and touched his elbow.

“Wanna dance?”

Dave wanted to ask if they could talk, wanted to get his number so they could actually stay in touch, but he was already being led off onto the dance floor by the handsome apparition in his bargain bin poser outfit and duct taped sneakers.

“Where the fuck were you? I waited! Did I say something? Give me your fucking phone, you’re not leaving here without my number.”

Dave’s voice rose steadily over the din of the music, the throb and hum of the crowd, head turning this way and that as he tried to make sure John had heard him. He needed an answer if they were going to continue this strange courtship they’d been doing. After four long months apart, realizing how much he’d come to rely on seeing him weekly, Dave wanted to know if they could go beyond that.

John wasn’t answering, eyes closed as he held him close and swayed, kissed at his neck and held his abdomen. He looked so happy, and it felt so right, but it wasn’t good enough to stay like this. Dave had to know. Grunting, he struggled loose from John’s arms and turned around, shoving at his shoulders in annoyance.

“Hey! Answer me, damn it!”

“I could say the same thing, Dave, where’d you get to?”

“I…” Right, he’d only missed him once then stopped showing up like an idiot. He lowered his head and hands to reply, though kept his voice raised to be heard. “…I thought you moved on.”

John grabbed his hand again and pressed something into it, leaned down and kissed at his neck again, talking in his ear to avoid being too loud. It was with a nervous throb in his stomach that Dave realized he was holding the unmistakable outline of a ring.

“Look at that and tell me you thought I moved on again, Dave.”

“John, are you shitting me?”

“I don’t know, is two hundred bucks and a guess at your ring size shitting you?”

“You’re out of your fucking mind!”

“That a no?”

“No, it’s me saying you’re crazy!”

“So is it a yes?”

Dave glowered at him and shoved it into place, knowing it would need to be adjusted about a half size tighter to be as secure as he’d need it. John seemed to be a pretty good guess at his size, and it made him wince to wonder how long he’d been coming back and waiting for him with it. They could talk about it plenty later.

“It’s a shut up and kiss me, you unbelievable nerd, so we can dance and get out of here.”

John grinned broadly and looked pleased with himself, happy with how the slim band looked on the pale scarred hand in the flashing lights, how right the grin looked under the dark aviators. Like magnets they clung to each other and fell below the tide.

\-----

One year later and the music was blaring heavy and fast, crowd dressed to the nines under the flash and flare of the strobes and lights knee deep in smoke. The bar was handing out free drinks, mixed shots and fruit juice, soda pop for a younger crowd that had never been within their walls before. A large cake dominated one end of a buffet near the doorway, simple in shape but checker boarded with blue and red, two tiny brunette and blonde figures holding hands at the top.

The DJ, rented with the club for the reception, guided the track from something fast and hard to something deep and heavy as Dave and John swung back out into view in the center of the crowd. They’d ditched their jackets and stuffy accessories, happy to roll up their sleeves and switch to sneakers as they showed the wedding party how it was really meant to be done.

When the music fell away just a touch, it was hard to ignore the sound of cheering and happy yells, whistles and cat calls as the grooms shared their second kiss as newlyweds.

After the wedding the club may go back to normal hours and set up, the music may never stop and the drinks may always get poured, but not a single bit of it could ever replace the bit of serendipity that had occurred within its walls to bring two mismatched people together as thoroughly as it had them.

**Author's Note:**

> original tumblr post- http://themockingcrows.tumblr.com/post/48698084365/near-miss-a-nsfw-johndave-fic  
> original concept- http://themockingcrows.tumblr.com/post/47554059890/imagine-your-otp


End file.
